


Off the Track, They are the Same as You and Me.

by AmandaLRol



Category: NASCAR RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Possible Character Death, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaLRol/pseuds/AmandaLRol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically I had a dream after going to the 2014 Richmond Toyota Owner's 400. I don't know if it was an omen or whatever but I wanted to write about it before I forgot. This event pretty much happens at Richmond when Jimmie Johnson gets in a really bad accident on the track and could possibly die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off the Track, They are the Same as You and Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-read. Just a short story. It's not overly detailed either.

I hate Jimmie Johnson

At least, I used to. That was before I went to the Richmond race this year in April.

I absolutely despised the guy. The way he cheated, how he and his crew chief got away with so much crap, it was ridiculous. How he seemingly won all the time, and how he always seemed to wriggle himself out of a fine or punishment no matter what it was for. I was one of those fans who would stab my middle finger into the air each time he passed by where I was sitting in the tracks. The drivers say they can sometimes see when fans are doing that so you know, why not? He deserves it, at least I though he did, all these years. My pure hatred for him started mainly during his championship streak, as did many others whom I knew. I guess we just got sick and tired of NASCAR being nothing but the Jimmie Johnson Show. So in my resentment, I had started to drift away from it all, still hoping that the game would change sooner or later. So, when I heard that the Chase got totally redone this year, I was very excited. It was a game changer alright. So I stocked up on my driver's gear and began to save up for the race in April.

I was born and bread a NASCAR fan, as well as Football. Although, football never really caught my interest so much that I became actively involved with it like NASCAR. I was a Tony Stewart fan from the beginning, since I was like 3 years old. I've been to the Daytona, Martinsville, Dover, and Richmond tracks throughout my 22 years. Richmond was always my favorite of all of them. It's the closest track to where I live and it wasn't too big (like Daytona, where you couldn't see the other side no matter where you sat) or too small (like Martinsville, where the seating is absolutely horrible and nothing ever happened on the track). Dover was alright but Richmond was closer, so naturally I go to the Richmond races almost every year. If I had enough money to spare, I'd probably go to all of the races. 

So, dawning my hat, shirt, flag and the usual, I made my way to Jr. Nation. For those of you who have been to the Richmond track, you would know what I mean by that. I have nothing against Jr. Not really. I mean, sure he's won 1 or 2 races in the last few years and sure I consider him to be not much more than the Mascot for NASCAR, but that doesn't mean I hate him, like I do Johnson. And yeah, Jr. fans were a bit obnoxious and always seemed to be drunk. That was the bad side of the Richmond track. It consisted of about 50% of drunken rednecks. But whatever. Over the years I learned to deal with it in my own way. I especially know to avoid the drunk redneck walk of shame. Again, you'd have to of been there before to know what I mean.

So anyway, this race started out like any other race, checking out the haulers and getting some new merch and some awesome free stuff. I sat around the Sprint hauler for about an hour or so afterwards and watched Justin Allgaier and Ryan Newman get interviewed. After that I dawned my Pit Pass and I trekked pit road as I always did. I got a lug nut from Kyle Busch's pit. My father will love this. Somehow I completely missed out on seeing Tony's pit because I could not find it anywhere, so I was a bit bummed out. So, I went to sign the start/finish line, wishing Tony the best, then I made my way off the track. It was about 90 minutes to go till the race so I stopped to get my dinner and found my seat. I sat gratefully on the uncomfortable bench and ate quietly until the pre-race ceremonies started. I was about 3 rows up, in section E over by turn 1. This was new to me because I had always sat near or opposite the Start/Finish line. This time I was on a turn and faced the exit of pit road. I thought it would make for some interesting photos throughout the race. Too bad my phone was almost dead and my mother wouldn't let me bring her camera. So I took my father's phone (who was with me) and I promised him I'd switch out the SD cards and transfer the photos as soon as we got back home. After eating hastily, the pre-race ceremonies started and things were moving along. I sighed gratefully when a band played the National Anthem instead of someone singing it. I always had this thing where I feared someone would screw up the anthem at this track and the drunks would freak out. It is Jr. Nation after all. 

So the race started. About halfway through Smoke was averaging between 15th and 22nd place and Johnson was around 5th so I wasn't all that thrilled. So in order to keep myself entertained, I walked the walkway on the track for the remainder of the race to do what I usually do. Firstly I would try and avoid the security and get as close the the fence as possible. I'd always get a massive adrenaline rush every time the cars passed me and the draft would almost knock me sideways. I wasn't very build and I was a bit tall so I'd stand there holding down my hat and my lanyard watching the cars fly by me like a blur. It was so thrilling to watch it from the sidelines, imagine how crazy it would be to be in one of those cars! I admired them for that. I would never be brave enough to do such a thing. I would laugh every time someone told me that NASCAR wasn't a real sport. They don't even know the half of it! 

So I was making my usual rounds. I think I walked around the track 3 times, and each time the cars would pass, I'd hoot and holler and cheer whenever I saw the 14, and then I'd promptly stick my middle finger to the air whenever I saw the 48. The usual. I couldn't stand in one area too long before one of the security guys would walk in front of me holding up their "Please Keep Moving" sign. Those annoyed me to death but there were rules for a reason, so I never argued, I just walked along slowly, occasionally stopping with a crowd. The restarts were always my favorite. Sure I'd get shit in my eyes, (even though I wear glasses) and sure I'd get my ass blow halfway across the track but they were awesome! How everyone stood in their seats, how they all rushed up to the walls as far as the security would let them. The thunderous roar in your ears that left you leaving the track half deaf for a week. The adrenaline that surged in your blood when they bumped and banged each other around for position. It made it all worth the while even though your driver was in no position to win. (that was my case at the moment.)

So around the last 50 laps I noticed Johnson's car starting to fall back! I was excited for that, because my motto is, any race is a successful race if he doesn't win. 

I was walking down the straightaway between turns 2 and 3 when it happened. I was facing turn 3 so I did not see the wreck at first, but I heard it. A loud popping sound and then what sounded like an explosion. It was so loud and sounded so close that I actually cringed and I noticed a few others doing the same. I had never heard anything quite like it in all my years going to the races. Suddenly people close to me started scrambling about and I realized was was about to happen. Of course I wasn't afraid. Only once has a car ever broke through the fence before, that I know of. So I simply tuned around in enough time to see what I thought would be the best moment of the race. Jimmie Johnson was wrecking.  Of course it was all going to fast for me. Another loud boom and screeching. Kyle smashed head on into the driver's side of Johnson's car, sending him careening and flipping. It caught air underneath and next thing I realized was that he was mid-air, heading straight for the fence directly in front of me. There was no time to react so I did what I thought was my best option and ducked, slamming myself against the white wall beneath the fence moments before the car slammed completely into the fence, sending dust, debris, fence chunks and god knows what else all around the immediate area. A loud grinding sound and a couple other cars came crashing into the wall, and Tony (of course it had to be tony) couldn't catch himself so he joined in the domino effect, crashing headlong into Johnson, completely trashing his front end. A couple of other cars got caught in the mix and when I looked up I saw what looked like a pile of cars like what you would see in the junkyard. 

Johnson's car was pinned against the wall, facing inwards, Tony was behind him, and Kyle was right next to him, his car upside down. Casey Mears covered the front, or what was left of it, and Joey Logano's car was partially run up onto the top of it. I looked closely and figured if my arms were about 2 feet longer, I would have been able to touch him. His car was completely ruined. The front end was smashed, the back end fared no better. I wasn't worried at first, knowing the cage was 95% effective in protecting the driver in the event of a wreck. But then I looked closer. Where Kyle had slammed into him at full speed, it looked as though the cage buckled harshly. Metal twisted and already damaged, the car then slamming into the fence... it looked worse than I had ever seen a car wrecked before, even outside of NASCAR. The inside of the car took severe damage as well, and I could almost swear it was way worse that I was making it out to be. 

The security rushed the area, pushing back the fans from the damaged fence and smoldering wreckage as the emergency vehicles showed up. The drivers started exiting their vehicles, making their way away from the wreck and toward the officials. 

Only after a second or two did I realize something that made my heart skip a beat. Johnson had not moved a muscle since I first looked at him. I looked one more time to be sure. He still hadn't moved. A bunch of bozos in Jr. shirts were behind me hissing and jeering at the apparent lifeless form in the car. More fans swarmed the area, overwhelming the security, and pushing me into the wall, literally right next to Johnson's car. There was a huge gash in the fence from where he hit so I could now see into the car clearly.

Johnson was hurt bad. I could see blood from where the internal metal cut into his body when he was hit. His head was rolled to one side and the steering wheel crushed into him, making it almost impossible to breathe. Was he even breathing? Yes but barely. His arm looked to be broken in multiple spots and there was a massive crack in his helmet, almost as if it was split in two. The hans device used to protect drivers had broken off, from the driver's side and was missing. It might of gone missing along with a huge chunk of the roof. He was slack on one side, and his legs seemed to be crushed underneath. Sheer panic rose to my throat as I looked around and no one seemed to notice. The crowd was too busy jeering and booing to notice, and the officials on the track couldn't get to Johnson's car because it was completely surrounded by a half dozen wrecked out cars. 

I have something to admit. After all the races I've been to and all the pit passes I've had, I've never managed to meet my NASCAR hero. I always figured the first thing I would say to him would be something to the effect of "Hi Stewart, I'm your biggest fan!"

Well no, sadly it was not the case. It was on much darker terms.

Tony climbed out of his car and shoved off his helmet, looking upset and frustrated. He stood for a moment, as an official talked with him. At the moment he locked eyes with Johnson's car, I reached through the fence, pointing directly at Johnson and thank God he looked up at me because I wasn't sure he was even going to notice me. When he did I put on my best fear face and mouthed the words "He's hurt." 

At first Tony looked at me confused. He looked at my finger, then to the car and back to me again. His expression changed slightly but it wasn't enough. Over all of the fan's voices, I shouted as loud as possible so he could maybe hear me. I was pushing my luck at this point. "He's hurt!" I shouted.

A Kyle Busch fan next to me, suddenly looked at me and then his eyes carried to Johnson's car. His expression was that of a pissed off fan, but the moment he saw what I saw, he yelled out in horror. "Oh God! Johnson is hurt! He's hurt!" The man pointed and shouted. Other fans heard and the word spread quicker than wildfire. The jeers, insults and laughter suddenly stopped and the noise picked up with screaming and shouting. A lot of people started calling out his name and some fans climbed the fence, getting the attention of the officials on the track. They pointed and yelled. The officials ignored them at first but I held my ground at looked at Tony again. "Help" was all I said this time, and it seemed to register. He looked over to the official and pointed to Johnson's car speaking quickly and frantically. The men acted immediately and the activity swarmed on the track as the drivers also realized what was going on. 

Now fans were swamping the area. Security and police no longer had control of the crowd as they stood back hopelessly as the fans grew wind of what was happening. I tried my hardest to watch Johnson to make sure that he was still breathing, as officials and EMS started to respond and try to make their way to his car. He was boxed in and they were having a difficult time shifting through the mess. I was watching Johnson so hard that I didn't see the bright white flash that came from Tony's car. Panicked voices caught my attention as they shouted "Fire!"

Tony's fuel line busted and caught fire and it spread quickly amongst the oil and fuel spread over the track. The drivers who were out of the cars were shouting and hollering now, their voices panicked in realization. They tried to climb over the cars to get to Johnson but the officials pulled them back and told the EMS to pull back. I started to panic whilst the fire spread to Johnson's car quickly, engulfing the whole driver's side. A fire truck had made it's way to the scene and started spraying foam everywhere, getting it all over me and everyone else. The fire was relentless though, being fueled by the car's internal liquids. Johnson still wasn't moving, as the flames licked only feet from his body. I started to see the net that covered the window melt right next to his face, and he still did not move. The chaos was so bad that I couldn't even tell if he was breathing anymore. I was being shoved and clambered on as panicked fans reached through the fence in a failed attempt to reach out to him. Was I going to see someone die right in front of me? Had I already? 

The flames crept hastily across Johnson's roof despite the shower of foam. I looked around quickly to see officials shouting and pointing and some of the drivers were trying to climb on top of the cars to get to Johnson. Tony was atop his car but he shouted helplessly to a wall of flames. Gordon and Kyle were halfway through to him but by then the whole left side of his car was completely engulfed in the seemingly foam resistant flames. My eyes darted back and forth. Fans were climbing the fence and police were trying to get to where I was. For a moment I wondered why, but then I realized.

The hole in the fence. 

It was just big enough for someone as small as me to fit through. It's dangerous. I could get into so much trouble. Trouble? Seriously who cared about trouble if I had even the slightest chance to save someone's life. 

It took me only a moment to decide what I had to do. I looked to the Kyle Busch fan and shoved my purse into his arms. That purse had over $400 in cash and my phone, but I didn't even think twice. He grabbed the purse with a confused look, but when I climbed up to the wall he nodded. "Be careful"

I nodded in return and before I knew what I was doing, I climbed through the fence to the other side of the wall. I myself couldn't believe this was happening as I stood there, but the heat and the view told me otherwise. A new surge of noise violated my ears as people started to realize what I was doing. A few of the drivers started yelling at me and officials were trying to rush me. Shouting for me to get back behind the fence. Police made a massive dive to where I was but almost in response the crowd surged on them, pushing them back. 

In a blur I dove into Johnson car through the window. It was so hot when I got inside that I began to sweat almost instantly. Flames danced all through the roof and the driver's side and now into the back seat. A rush of panic settled and I froze for a moment. What the hell am I doing?

I shoved the fear away and immediately started searching for the buckles that were holding Johnson in place. His lifeless body leaned against them heavily as I undid them, one by one. I started to cough from smoke inhalation and I suddenly conveniently remembered that I have asthma. 

I pushed passed the thick smoke and continued to fuss with the buckles. The temperature climbed more each second I was inside of the car. There was no way Johnson was going to survive this if I didn't get him out quickly. I unlatched what I thought was the last buckle and then used my weight to shove the steering wheel off of his chest. Johnson slumped forward and I grabbed him. In one quick move, I yanked off his helmet, and threw it into the flames that were just inches from me. I cried out in pain as my skin began to burn and I began to feel dizzy from the smoke. I grabbed Johnson and pulled his body toward me in an attempt to get him as far away from the flames as possible. My pulse was racing too fast for me to be able to concentrate on checking his. His head was bloodied and it looked as though someone took a sledge hammer to it. I spoke to him quietly through the pain. "Hey, Johnson, stay with me alright? I'm gonna get you outta here okay? Stay with me." A tear escaped my eye as I looked over him quickly. How could I ever hate someone who was just like me? He was good at something, that was all. I pulled him back farther and embraced him in a tight hold. I began to weep, unsure of what to do next as I felt him against me and I realized that he was not breathing. My pulse quickened as blood trickled from his head all the way down to my white "Smoke" shirt. In a resolute of panic, i took his head into my hands and without hesitating, I breathed in a fresh lung of air into his mouth. His limp body cradled into my arms as I did it again, with no response. Again and again I shoved my dwindling air into him, until I got a response. He started to cough and breathe in harshly, he opened his eyes loosely and looked right at me. He cried out in pain but I shushed him and told him everything is going to be alright, although I wasn't even sure.

"Wh-who are you?"

"Just a fan." I croaked.

"How...?" his eyes dulled and began to fade. 

"Don't worry, I'm just here to help. You gotta stay with me, okay? Hang in there I'm gonna get you out."

He cried out in pain as I shifted slightly. "No!" his voice was thick. "Why are you here.. get out. Get out." His voice was drowned out by the fans and the surrounding sounds. His breath ragged, he continued to cry out as I tried to figure out a way out of this. His eyes grayed and I begged him to stay with me, but the pain was too much for him and he became limp in my arms. His head fell to rest on my shoulder and I raked my hand through his hair gently, trying to keep him feeling so he would know that I was here. He was breathing now but barely. Blood continued to escape from his head wound, and he looked very pale. I panicked, unsure of what to do, when I saw hands reaching for me from the outside.

My vision began to grow clouded and it was becoming very hard for me to breathe so I only had a few seconds before I would lose consciousness. My skin was on fire and the burning almost didn't even hurt anymore as I used up my reserve strength to shove him toward the window first before me. The entire car was now a blanket of fire along with Tony's car and the others. My strength left my body as I shoved him partially through the window.  Hands grabbed for him and began to pull him through. When he was safely out of harms way, I let out a happy cry, but it was short lived. My whole body burned like a thousand coals as I collapsed into the seat unable to grab for the hands that were now reaching for me, my world turning black and deafeningly quiet.

* * *

I didn't die in the car that day, but rather a few days later after being in a coma. The Kyle Busch fan reached in for me but by then the fire had engulfed the entire car and I was badly burned and not breathing, pulse threading. Fans looked on in horror as the EMT did everything in their power to save me. People were screaming and some were crying. Other's prayed and many just watched, silent. Johnson was whisked away in a separate ambulance. He was pretty badly burned and had a couple of severe injuries to his head limbs and abdomen, but he survived because of me. The doctor's had told him that if he would have been in there any longer, there was no way he could have survived. 

Johnson awoke to the news of my death and was devastated. He remembered the brief moments we shared in the car and sometimes he would be upset about all of it. After some time, he learned that I had not liked him at all as a racer. He amended the controversy, stating that for a person who didn't even like him, I sure was braver than any other fan among that crowd on that day. 

Jimmie Johnson, along with every single driver of NASCAR was there for my funeral. Thousands upon thousands of fans showed up as well, from each corner of the country. Fans of Jimmie Johnson or not. Now, during every single race, Johnson has a sticker on his car above the driver's window in memorandum of me. Most drivers still stick with the sticker on their cars every time they have a Richmond race. Johnson's sponsors along with NASCAR teamed up together to provide my family with a lifetime supply of tickets to each Richmond race, including pit passes and suite reservations. Tony Stewart met with my family many times throughout the years. He would also have the horrible memories of me calling out to him and him being unable to help. That day, he watched me burn as I saved a man's life whom I didn't even like. He would also remember me throughout the years and every time he would win a race from then on, he'd place a firm kiss onto his fingers and hold them to the sky. It became his signature victory salute, and for many many years following, fans would do it too. I was never forgotten in the world of NASCAR, Johnson and Tony would salute me to the end of their racing days. I'd would eventually get a spot in the exclusive section of the NASCAR hall of fame. Whenever they came to Richmond, Johnson would always stop by and say hello, and bring me very beautiful flowers, and Tony would also but not as much. 

It goes to show you really cannot hate a person without actually knowing them. Life is precious and is not meant to be wasted.

 

“How would your life be different if…You stopped making negative judgmental assumptions about people you encounter? Let today be the day…You look for the good in everyone you meet and respect their journey. If people try to judge you or shame you for doing things that make you happy, I can guarantee you they're bad people.” ~Unknown


End file.
